A Story Starring Mary Anne
by hazel-the-nut
Summary: Mary Anne, only sane person in Stoneybrook, if even she is, finds out that her mother isn't dead after all. But who is she then?
1. Chapter 1

A Story Starring Mary Anne

Chapter 1

"Look at this soup", said Kristy Thomas and grimaced as though she was going to throw up.

"It reminds me of what Shannon once did on one of our Oriental rugs after Karen had mixed ten tablets of laxative into her food. And I don't mean Shannon the dog." She bowed her head towards her plate. "And oh yeah, it stinks the same."

This was very typical of Kristy. She is always making up disgusting comments on food she or someone else nearby is eating. It's pretty gross, but I didn't have the courage not to snicker because Kristy can be quite vindictive.

Mr. and Mrs. Kishi, in whose house we, the BSC, were having dinner, didn't look too cheerful. They exchanged an angry glance and Mr. Kishi said quietly something in Japanese.

"Kristy's just kidding, dad", said Claudia quickly, and we could all hear her kicking Kristy hard under the table. "She is such a vicehacker."

"The correct expression is _wisecracker _", said Claudia's big sister Janine in a bored voice.

Stacey also kicked Kristy with all her powers, so that Kristy's chair fell backwards.

"Ouch!" she yelled. "One more violent act against me and I'll dissolve the Club!"

Kristy is my oldest friend, resourceful and goal-oriented, but sometimes she just has no manners. Fortunately no one paid her any attention anymore, because Claudia had started a quarrel with Janine.

"Oh whatever you say Miss I-Know-It-All-Coz-I've-Learned-It-By-Heart-From-A-Dignitary!" Claudia shouted and her eyes filled with tears of rage. "Is there anything you don't know! Any dictator in Northern Europe whose name you don't remember? Any glacier in Africa which you can't locate in one degrees accuracy!"

Janine looked annoyed and a little amused. "The book which you would need really badly is actually called a _dictionary_. A _dignitary _is a person you could never become since you can't even spell your own name."

Claudia burst into tears. "I'm not appreciated in this family!" she cried and stood up. "I'm an artist, why don't you understand that? It doesn't matter that I can paint as well as DaVinci when everyone in this family is cleverer than me."

Janine burst out laughing. "It isn't hard to beat someone who thinks that Lenin was our first president", she howled.

"It was you who told me that!" Claudia yelled. "A day before my history test! What a loving sister I have!"

"Stop arguing right away girls" said Mr. Kishi. "Claudia, sit down. We are having guests." He spat the last word out of his mouth as if he was talking about something disgusting and dirty.

A silence fell over us all. I was very shocked by this hostile scene, so shocked I couldn't finish my soup (or maybe it was because Kristy's words still bothered me). I had known that Claudia and her older sister didn't get along, but I had never imagined things were this bad. I was ever more grateful that my stepsister Dawn and I were best friends.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

You have surely already guessed who I am: Mary Anne Spier, the secretary of the BSC. Our club is the most reliable, definitely the best (and well, only) babysitting group in Stoneybrook.

Every now and then some people who have heard of our success try to find a babysitting club of their own. It just never seems to work.

Last October, for example, a 15-year-old-girl called Julia Simmons gathered a bunch of her friends and started to hand out leaflets on "The Kid Keepers". I saw one of their ads, which Claudia brought to a Monday meeting, and it was pretty stylish (but not as stylish as ours are, of course). According to it those girls would guarantee you "a qualified, both babysitting and first -aid course completed person at least in one hours notice".

They never managed to start their activity though. On next Wednesday Julia vanished without a trace, and no one has seen her ever since. (I remember it was Wednesday because on that day Kristy was 4 minutes late from the BSC meeting, and what is also historically noteworthy, she was cheery the whole time.) Her poor friends were too upset, or too slothful, as Kristy would say, to start the club by themselves.

Whenever someone mentions Julia Kristy begins to laugh gruesomely and says:" She probably committed suicide. I wonder if anyone has looked for her body from the old warehouse which is on the playground next to Stoneybrook kindergarten?"

In my opinion Kristy has a very strange sense of humour. Anyone would never occur to go even near that warehouse, especially nowadays when it stinks really awful. I think the wood is rotting or something.

But look at me, here I'm just babbling on and on about Kristy when I should be talking about me. Well, what could I say? By nature I'm quite shy and sensitive, somewhat like a Jane Austen character, perhaps Fanny Price or…

Someone poked me on the side. I turned and saw Claudia. "Did you say something to me?" she whispered.

"No", I responded in a low voice. "What makes you think that?"

"Well", she said. "For the last ten minutes you have been mumbling about something I haven't been able to hear, but then just a second ago I clearly heard you mentioning "fancy prices", and I just thought you were gonna tell me about some new clothing store. But obviously you weren't. Never mind."

She looked disappointed and I flushed. I hadn't realized I was thinking out loud.

Don't worry now, both my and Claudia's vocal cords are fine. We were whispering because we were in a classroom and a mother tongue lesson was in progress. We had a substitute teacher, Miss Hill. Our real English teacher, Mr Johnson, was temporarily dismissed because of "inappropriate and obscene behaviour in front of minors". I have no idea what he had done; Stacey said it was even in the local newspaper, but my father didn't let me read it.

Strange people freak me out. Not when it's question about new clients or children, but otherwise. Miss Hill was no exception. Even the shortest eye contact with her made me flush.

Soon after Claudia had awakened me the worst possible thing happened: Miss Hill told me to say what I thought about the first scene of Hamlet. It wasn't Shakespeare's Hamlet but a story including a lost hyena cub, orphan condors and a very, very angry polecat, and which had actually made me weep myself to sleep the night before.

I flushed once again and took a deep breath. "In my opinion the characters are realistic, although I can't identify with any of them. The plot is profound and tragic. I think that the lost hyena reflects a human being confused by complexity of this world", I said quickly.

Miss Hill was still looking at me and waiting. It was obvious she hadn't heard a word I had said. Would I have to repeat it all? I panicked and totally forgot every single thought that was in my mind.

I gasped for a while and then remembered the yoga breathing exercises Dawn, my stepsister, had taught me to do in stressful situations. So I stretched my arms, closed my eyes and started to breathe slowly while repeating the mantra: "whee-loo, whee-loo".

When I finally felt relaxed enough I opened my eyes and saw everyone in the classroom staring at me like a lunatic. Oh gosh, I had managed to embarrass myself once again! I hadn't seen that coming!

"Are you OK?" Miss Hill asked me. I nodded. "Good. Could you then please answer my question?" she said nervously, clearly worrying what I might do next.

"I liked Hamlet but the chosen piece made me sad", I muttered.

Miss Hill looked confused. "I beg your pardon?" she said. "You like ham, but frozen peas make you mad?"

Now that revealed that she was no rock scientist. Why on earth would I answer something like that? I have no idea what she had been doing before she was hired in Stoneybrook middle school, but it had hardly had anything to do with teaching pre-teens. Actually, the way she acted earlier had made me suspect that she was under some kind of a drug. Unless it is normal that a grown woman drools all over her shirt and tells the pupils to call her Captain Tortilla.

"No, that's not what I said!" I yelled desperately, not being able to see the funny side of the situation. I was ashamed and a little scared too. I buried my face in my hands, tears pouring from my eyes.

Miss Hill stood there a moment staring at me. "You better go meet the psychologist, dear", she said then. "It's not healthy to be that emotional. Go right away. There's something wrong with you." That said a woman who had less than five minutes ago cut up all the chalks because "they were planning a revolution."

However, I didn't want to contradict so I jammed my books into my school bag and left. Vow, this wasn't my lucky day. My only comfort was that I would be meeting Logan in the evening.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Mary Anne darling, urmm, are you really going to go out dressed like that?"

"What's wrong with my outfit, dad?"

"Don't get me wrong, but I think your skirt is a little bit sluttish. I mean, I _can _see your ankles."

These kinds of conversations my father and I have almost every day. He is a bit overprotective sometimes, because before he and Dawn's mother got married he had to take care of me all alone. My mother died when I was still a baby.

My father has really put himself out for me, and has done a great job. When I was a toddler he even used to put on my mothers old clothes and make up his face, just to make me feel more familiar! Since he's so humble he denies it every time I try to bring it up. Then he flushes and mumbles something about how he could have known how much a two-year-old child is able to impress.

"Oh give her a break!" Dawn shouted from the living room. "You are treating her like she was brain-dead and going outside naked!"

Dawn lives in California but is now here in Stoneybrook to take part in a demonstration that demands the local government to illegalise both selling and using all insecticides, which are, as she says, "an extreme way of torturing innocent animals."

My father ignored her, as he always does nowadays, since Dawn burned his new leather jacket in a garbage can in our backyard while singing Paul McCartney's Golden Earth Girl, and refused to apologize.

"You don't want Logan to get a wrong impression, do you?" he asked and wrinkled his forehead.

"He's a gentleman, dad, and you know it!" I defended my boyfriend. "He did ask for a written permission from you to kiss my cheek on our 16th date, remember?"

"And he certainly didn't get it!" father said and even the thought of it made him look upset. "I don't know what he was thinking. You are a way too young to get pregnant."

"Yeah, that's how it happens!" Dawn yelled mockingly. "Logan's sperm comes from his mouth and he could have accidentally fertilized Mary Anne's face!" She burst out laughing, and it was hard for me to keep a straight face, although I hadn't the faintest idea what she was talking about.

In protest father closed the door between the living room and the hall where we were standing. "What about those people you and Logan are going to visit?" he went on. "What do we know about them? You should follow my advice and not go to their home. They could turn out to be.. to be.. well, some kind of perverts and, well.. they could try to rape you."

"We're having tea with Logan's grandparents, dad!" I exclaimed. "They are both over 80 years old!"

"Old people can act unexpectedly", father said. "You are yet too naïve to understand that."

He sighed. "Listen, you better take this, just in case", he said and handed me a pepper spray can. "And don't hesitate to use it if that grandpa gets crazy ideas. Remember that I'm a lawyer, I can get us out of it like I did last time."

I slipped the spray into my purse. "Whatever makes you feel better, dad", I said and smiled at him. "But now I must go, Logan has waited for me over 15 minutes outside our front door."

"Alright", father responded. "But don't take your coat off under any circumstances. Flashing isn't appropriate for a young lady."

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I came home three hours later. It had been a pleasant evening; Logan's grandparents were really charming people. It didn't matter that the tea had smelled like someone had peed in the teapot before serving, and that the cookies were evidently baked when the U.S. was still a colony of Great Britain.

I was sure they had liked me, and were looking forward to get me a relative some day, in spite of what had happened when Logan and I were leaving.

While shaking my hand for farewell Logan's grandfather had had some kind of a seizure. He had started to shake uncontrollably and couldn't let go of my hand. It hadn't help that I had, instinctively, pulled out the pepper spray can and squirted both his face and crotch, as my father had taught me to do.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"I hate you Mary Anne! Do you hear me, you jerk! The oven has been on and warm for half an hour now, but I haven't been able to finish my soy casserole because it took you so freaking long time to go to a grocery store! Do you get how much electricity you have wasted?"

Once I stepped into the kitchen Dawn started raging. She snatched a plastic bag from me and turned it upside down so that everything that was in it fell on the floor. She picked up a shaker of herbal salt and shook it fiercely on her dish, which she then put into the oven. After that she turned to face me.

"Open the window and look outside!" she told me. I obeyed. She came to stand next to me.

"SEE THE POLLUTION DARKENING THE ATMOSPHERE? FEEL THE GREENHOUSE EFFECT SPEEDING UP?" Dawn suddenly yelled in my left ear, and made me jump at least two feet. She has been a little tense since she went vegan six months ago. I think she doesn't eat enough vitamin B.

"Why didn't you just turn off the oven?" I asked her.

She totally ignored my question. "Mary Anne, because of selfish people like you, we are all going to die", she said dramatically.

I rolled my eyes. Dawn had a pretty good reason to be angry. My trip to the grocery store had lasted almost an hour, although it should've taken max 20 minutes. But it wasn't my fault, really! In the store I had met Mallory's mom, and we had had a long chat. I'm a very good listener, everybody knows that. My friends often come to me when they have problems. Even my friends' parents know I have this unusual feature, which basically bases on the fact that I don't have the courage to interrupt people.

It was only Saturday morning, but I had already heard all about Mrs Pike's new pie recipe, her limited urinary continence and the triplets' troubles at school. When she had mentioned Mr Pike's potency I had started acting like I was choking, just to direct her attention to other things.

I sighed. Dawn took this as a good sign. "Don't worry", she said happily. "You can always change your behaviour. Hey, why don't we hit the mall today? They have opened a new X-Burger there."

I was just about to ask how come she had added junk food into her diet when she continued: "I have drawn and written many banderols. We can stand in front of it the whole afternoon informing people what a huge mistake they would make if they went in."

Luckily I didn't have time to answer because both my father and Dawn's mother Sharon came to the kitchen. Otherwise I would've probably agreed. I'm lousy at making up excuses. For that reason I originally joined the BSC; Kristy didn't buy my lies about the super important piano lessons I had every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. But don't get me wrong; the club is the best thing that has ever happened to me. If I don't count Logan, of course. And Tigger. And father's remarriage. And the fact that tofu really tastes OK when you have got used to it. Dawn always makes me eat it when she visits us.

"Good morning girls!" Sharon twittered. "What a beautiful day. Isn't it, Richard?" She was wearing a red fisherman's hat, my old silver coloured T-shirt, blue jeans, a long, black cloak and big, square eyeglasses, although as far as I know there is nothing wrong with her eyesight. Besides this she had nails hanging from her hair.

Sharon is always a bit slapdash, but I thought this was a record, taking into account that she had obviously just wakened up. However, Claudia would have been jealous to death if she had seen her. She likes weird outfits.

"Yes, the weather is pretty nice", my father responded. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat by the table. "Sorry that we got up so late", he said. "But we didn't come home before two o'clock last night. We had great time with the Lewis's."

"It's alright", Dawn said. "The later the better." Father just snorted and opened the newspaper that lied on the table.

"Do you girls want some breakfast?" Sharon asked.

"No thanks, we already ate", I told her.

"Mom, will you take a walk with me?" Dawn wanted to know. "I would like to get some fresh air. Well, the air hasn't been fresh since the industrialization started, but you know what I mean."

Once they were off I sat down next to my father, who was still reading. I remembered I hadn't seen Tigger all day. I wondered if Dawn had let it out again. She has this obsession that she must set free my cat. She takes it outside, yells "be free" or something like that and goes back inside. When Tigger starts to scratch the door and meow she tells it to go and find its roots.

"Dad, do you know where Tigger is?" I asked worriedly. "Mrgh", was all he said.

"Dad, did you hear my question?"

My father looked up from the paper. His face was very pale and his eyes were widened. He stared at me for a moment with this peculiar expression. Then he calmly said what he had on his mind:

"Mary Anne. Your mother is coming to town."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was Monday evening, two days after that Saturday my father had told me the news. Kristy, Stacey, Claudia, Mallory, Jessi and I were all sitting in Claudia's room. The club meeting had just ended.

We had got a lot of babysitting jobs, as we always do. The parents in Stoneybrook just can't manage without us anymore. Once we went on strike to double our hourly wages (Kristy's order, we others didn't like the idea, but we didn't want to go through the Disloyalty-towards-the-leader-punishment again).

The strike lasted a week and caused incredible chaos all over our town. The parents couldn't hold on their daily routines; feeding and clothing their children seemed overwhelming when they knew there was no one to relieve them of their duties for an hour or two. They were helpless and almost crushed by the sudden responsibility. The children too were unhappy and cried all the time. Even the weather was gloomy and rainy.

In the end of the week a local state of emergency was declared. Adults didn't go to work, school was cancelled, most of the shops didn't open up, the streets got littered, the churches were burning down and the prices were rising. The then Secretary of the Interior contacted us and begged us to stop the strike. According to him rioting was about to start on any day, and the Federal Government wouldn't be able to deal with the loss of international reputation.

After a long negotiation the BSC was finally back in action. The parents were relieved and gladly agreed to pay us $18 per hour. In addition we got our own national day and started receiving monthly support straight from the government's budget. Because of that we have done away with our membership fee!

Some rumours claim that every proposition the government makes should get Kristy's approval before implementation. Although she gets these long phone calls to the principal's office sometimes twice during a school day and is allowed to receive them, I'm sure it isn't true. After all she _is_ only 13 years old.

But back to Claudia's room now.

"As I told you before the meeting, I have an announcement to make", I said seriously.

"Oh Mary Anne, I'm so sorry!" Stacey cried pityingly. "Logan has left you, right? I told him that night meant nothing for me, that it was just pure fun, but he must have somehow imagined that I really was interested in him."

I ignored Stacey's words completely. Mallory and Jessi were sitting on the floor, whispering and giggling together. Jessi had brought a little princess doll with her, claiming it was Becca's (who is her little sister), and that she had accidentally forgotten it into her pocket. Mallory was braiding its hair.

Usually Mallory and Jessi act very maturely, but then there are moments when you would think they still haven't finished playschool. For example at the time when they found out that unicorns don't exist. It was a couple of months ago. Oh, they really made a scene about that. Maybe it was a blow, but the ritual murder of a horse was just exaggeration. And I don't even want to know where they had got all those horns.

But as I said, Mallory and Jessi often behave like grownups. Like when they decided to revenge on Benny Ott and made an anonymous phone call to the police, saying that he was running an assassination business. Benny's still in custody. You never know what you get if you tease 11-year-old girls.

"Would you please listen to me, I have important news", I requested.

"It must wait", Kristy told me. "Because I have an idea."

"Please share your idea with us, Kristy", Stacey said sarcastically. "I'm sure it's great."

"Yesterday I realized that you are treating me too disrespectfully", Kristy stated. "From now on I want to be called as Miss Thomas, ma'am, or alternatively president."

"Oh sure", Stacey commented. "Or what if we just conversationally called you Dear Leader?"

"That is OK too", Kristy responded. "But now, Mary Anne, it is your turn."

"My mother is alive", I said simply. They all gave a start.

Claudia gasped. "That's amazing", she whispered. "How did she do it?"

"How did she do what?" I asked, confused.

"How did she survive twelve years buried under the ground?"

I explained it all very slowly, so that Claudia would also be able to understand. I told them that my mother had been a drug addict. My father had known this when they got married, but had believed her when she had promised never to use drugs again.

After two years, when I was about one year old, she had given in and continued using cocaine. My father had thrown her out every time she had been under the influence, because he had feared that she might hurt me. Then she, without even leaving a farewell note, had left Stoneybrook for good.

My father had assumed she had overdosed and died because he hadn't heard of her ever since. He had told me cancer had killed my mother, because he thought I was too young to hear the truth. But then, last Saturday, he had seen this short article in the Stoneybrook Times:

"_Alma Spier running for mayor of Stoneybrook_

_Alma Spier, 38, has taken part in the rivalry to become the mayor of Stoneybrook. She has, unlike her rival candidate Tom Flint, 45, a lot of experience in politics. "Six years ago I received Christ and joined the Republican Party. I have organized many successful election campaigns, but when I heard that this position was vacant, I decided it was my turn now. After all Stoneybrook is my hometown, and has always had a place in my heart, although I have lived the last twelve years in Washington D.C. I can't wait to get back", Spier says. She names one of her priorities the work against drugs. The Election Day is the 23rd of May."_

When I had finished we all just sat there still and avoided looking at each other. Then finally Claudia broke the silence and said what we all had probably been thinking of:

"This is a perfect time to have a little snack. Who wants chocolate candies?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I woke up squeaking. I switched on my bedside lamp and sat up. The time was 02:14 am by my clock radio.

I had had such a horrible nightmare. In my dream I was babysitting Jamie and Lucy Newton. While Jamie had ran around a chain saw in his hand smashing furniture, Lucy had turned into a little pink rabbit which I had killed and cooked for dinner. Then their mother had come home and got furious because I had forgotten to water her plants.

Mrs. Newton's plants in my nightmare were similar to those plants Dawn raises in her old Stoneybrook room. I don't know what they are; when Dawn talks about them she calls them "cash clouds" or, if someone else is listening, spinach. She has empowered me to water them. I had to promise not to ever mention them or let anyone into her room. I just don't see why; being a good gardener is nothing to be ashamed of.

I wanted that bad dream out of my mind so I opened the club notebook. It was a brand new, as it often is, because Mallory's notes after each job are from 20 to 30 pages. She likes to describe every single detail about everything she has seen, heard, said, thought or felt, even when she has been babysitting her own siblings. Reading it can be quite embarrassing.

The latest writer had luckily been Stacey instead of Mallory. Or instead of Claudia, for that matter. I can never understand even the half of what she has tried to write.

_Tuesday._

_Oh boys. Oh boys oh boys oh boys. I was babysitting that horrible brat again. You know whom I'm talking about! There's only one kid who behaves like she had run out from a zoo. And her father too is a raving mad! Kristy, I feel sorry for you, I don't get how you can live with people like that. But your brother Sam is an exception.. he's so fine. I think I'm in love! 3_

So Stacey had been babysitting at Kristy's house. Kristy's family members are her mother, stepfather Watson Brewer, her brothers Charlie, Sam and David Michael and Watson's children Karen, 6, and Andrew, 5. They all live in a mansion because Watson is a millionaire.

I don't know what Watson does exactly that makes him so rich, but I assume it has something to do with trading. I was once visiting Kristy and overheard a part of his cell phone conversation. He said something like "Polly gets back home if her mom and dad pay enough. Let's hope they do it in time. Remember to feed her, I want no unexpected changes." Perhaps he owns a very successful pet store or something.

On that Tuesday evening Stacey was supposed to baby-sit only Karen and Andrew, because 7-year-old David Michael was not at home. Usually Kristy would've baby-sat them, but on that day she had an extra football practice.

People at school sometimes call Kristy names because she's so masculine. Well alright, maybe her body synthesizes more testosterone than an average girl's body does, but anyhow it's totally unfair. And it doesn't mean that she's a dyke if she happens to find Martha Stewart attractive.

Stacey arrived and Watson opened the door for her.

"Hello Stacey. Karen is in the living room and Andrew is probably in the playroom. The cleaning lady has just tidyed up the whole house so don't let them make a big mess. I should be back in a couple of hours", he informed and left. He was obviously in a hurry. It isn't a surprise because Stacey tends to be late.

Stacey went to the living room where Karen was waiting for her with a glass.

"I thought you might be thirsty", she said. "So I fetched you some orange juice."

"That was very nice of you. Thank you, Karen." Stacey took a sip and then immediately spat the juice back to her glass.

"Karen, are you sure this juice isn't out-of-date?" she asked. "Cause it tastes really bad."

"Don't worry, it isn't", Karen answered. "The weird taste comes from laundry detergent."

"It comes from _what_?" Stacey cried. "Karen Brewer, why did you put detergent into my drink?"

"It's a potion, not a drink", Karen pointed out. "Its meaning was to reveal if you are a witch or not. If you had drank it without noticing any difference, I would have known that you are one." She smiled innocently. "We have to be careful these days, you know."

Stacey clenched her teeth. She remembered perfectly well the BSC's rule number 75, section 23, subsection 48: _never wreck a child's imagination_. That means in practice that if a child for example believes in Santa, we are not allowed to correct her. So Stacey concealed her anger and smiled back at Karen.

"You are right, it was a wise thing to do", she said sweetly. "Just don't do it again, OK?"

"I promise", Karen swore. "Hey, shall we play that my dolls have a tea party? Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Well, we better ask Andrew's opinion first", Stacey responded. "He might want to play something else." She wasn't very keen on playing with Karen anything that might include drinking or eating. "Where is he?"

"Uurh, he's busy at the moment, very busy", Karen said hastily. "He told me he doesn't want anyone to disturb him."

"Alright then", Stacey gave up. "Let's play the tea party."

When they had played an hour or so, and Stacey had countless times systematically refused to taste Karen's different "tea sorts", strange coloured and smelly liquids she kept bringing from the kitchen and from the toilet, Kristy's older brother Sam came home. He's 15 and goes to Stoneybrook High School. Stacey has a little crush on him, and I think Sam likes Stacey too.

"Hello baby", Sam said and sat on the couch. "Wazap?"

"Stop calling me a baby, I'm already six years old!" Karen snapped and left the room.

Stacey waved her hair and tittered. "Not much, at least until you came", she replied.

"Shouldn't you start to clean up soon?" Sam asked and glanced at the mess Karen had made. "You could load two dishwashers with all those cups."

"Oh, I would definitely do that, but you see, I can't", Stacey answered. "I'm a diabetic."

That was true. Stacey has diabetes, which means she must watch what she eats. Normally it shouldn't have an effect on anything else a diabetic does, but Stacey is a special case. She has told us that her blood sugar level lowers every time she does something she doesn't want to, what could be fatal.

Sam grinned. "That makes two of us then."

"Oh, do you have diabetes too?" Stacey got excited. She could already see Sam and herself jabbing insulin together in the bathroom. Poor Stacey doesn't have a very vivid imagination.

"Nope, but I have syph", Sam said, still smiling.

"Oh, what is that?"

"Come to my room and I'll show ya", Sam winked.

Stacey was just following Sam upstairs when Watson returned.

"Hi all, I'm back!" he cried cheerily. His face fell when he came to the living room. "What's happened here?" he asked. "I told you not to make a mess and you did the opposite."

At that moment Andrew came crying downstairs. "She locked me into the wardrobe!" he shouted. "It took me ages to get out!"

"Oh he did it, he did it!" Karen shrieked. "Andrew has supernatural forces!"

Watson watched Stacey accusingly. "How can you explain this? First you come 20 minutes late, and then you let the kids to mess up and bully each other. What kind of a babysitter are you?"

Before Stacey had had time to answer Sam had started to defend her. "Oh, he was so brave", Stacey told us later. "Especially when he said to Watson that he was nothing but a stupid old fag."

I closed the notebook and switched off the light. I hoped I wouldn't have another nightmare, but I probably would. I have them when I'm nervous, and now I really was. It was because Mrs. Spier would give her first public speech on the next afternoon. Then I would, for the first time ever, see my mother.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Yes ma'am. No ma'am. It's a deal, ma'am. Good bye." I hung up the phone.

"That sounded formal", said Sharon, who was standing behind me in the hall. "Was it a teacher of yours who called?"

"No, it was Kristy", I told her.

Sharon looked at me astonished. "O-K", she replied slowly. "Well, I better get going lest I'll be late from work. You have fun listening to the election speech. Bear in mind that politicians always lie through their teeth, especially when they promise you a romantic trip to Rome and a golden bracelet if you just agree to… Yes, I must go now."

"Wait a second!" I cried after her. "Sharon, mmph, you might want to take off those slippers before you leave. And are you quite sure you need that whisk? I mean I don't think you can utilize it in any way while you're commuting."

Sharon smiled apologetically, took off the fluffy, fox-headed slippers and changed them to my father's brown boots. The whisk she left on the hat rack. "Thanks Mary Anne", she expressed her gratitude. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"Probably get yourself locked up in a mental institution", I couldn't help thinking. Aloud I just said: "No problem." I didn't have the heart to tell her that there were several knitting needles stuck on her sweater and that the riding helmet on her head really wasn't necessary when driving a car.

I started to wander around the house without being able to concentrate on anything. Charlie was supposed to pick me up in a half an hour. He had promised to give the whole BSC a lift to the Plaza of Liberty, a square next to the Stoneybrook courthouse, where mayor candidates usually gave speeches and debated.

Finally I heard Charlie tooting his car's horn. I rushed outside and took a seat beside Claudia. It was a Friday noon, and we all should've been at school, but our parents had given us a permission to take the day off because it was such an uncommon situation.

How on earth, you must wonder, did us all fit into Charlie's car? Well, we didn't, as a matter of fact. When Dawn still lived in Stoneybrook and the BSC's total number was seven members, two of us had to run behind and try to keep up with the car. Most of the time they were Mallory and Jessi. After all they are just junior officers and two years younger than the rest of us.

This time Mallory was jammed into the trunk and Jessi had to run alone. She is a ballet dancer so her legs are strong. Still we had to wait for her a pretty long time when we were at our destination. I noticed that Kristy got very impatient, but she didn't complain. There was no other choice.

Once we tried to pull Mallory and Jessi behind the car attached to a rope. They were wearing roller skates, of course. It could've worked, but we were brought to a halt by the cops. Although Kristy contacted their supervisor, they got fired and Charlie didn't have to pay his fines, we never did it again. Mallory wasn't too sad about it. She's clumsier than Jessi, and kept falling. Bruises and scratches really don't beautify her.

When Jessi had caught us and we were all together, we headed towards the rostrum. There was a bench about 50 feet in front of it and we gathered on it. Well, Mallory and Jessi had to sit on the ground. There's just never enough room for them.

Because it was a weekday there were very few people present. Most of them were senior citizens and mothers with their little children.

One old lady came to stand next to our bench. Stacey stared at her. "How can a person be that wrinkled?" she said loudly "Doesn't she know that plastic surgery is highly developed these days? Look at that, girls! My grandparents look like teen-agers compared to her."

"Be quiet, Stacey", Claudia whispered. "She can hear you."

"I don't think so!" Stacey almost yelled. "She's evidently blind so she must be deaf too."

The lady came a bit closer and turned to us.

"Do you mind letting me sit down for a while?" she asked politely. "In my age you don't have the energy to stand or walk a very long time." She was looking at Kristy, who was sitting on the end of the bench.

Stacey was stunned. "Oh. My. Gosh!" she exclaimed. "You ask us to move? This could so never ever happen in New York!"

Kristy looked friendly at the old lady. "Don't care about her", she said. "Of course we let you sit down as long as you want. How much are you willing to pay for it?"

That's what Kristy's like: business always comes first.

The old lady was bewildered. "Excuse me?" she asked.

But no one paid her any attention anymore. Claudia was gazing and pointing at the rostrum. A thin, blond woman was climbing on it. She was wearing a dark green jacket suit and high-heeled shoes, and carrying a huge pile of paper.

After introducing herself she started to speak without even glancing at her papers. Her voice was high-pitched and loud when she preached how Stoneybrook's drug problem, and generally all crimes, should be pulled up by the roots. That, she claimed, would be done if she were the next mayor. It was pretty funny though, because there is no criminality in Stoneybrook.

When she had finished everybody applauded. That is to say us and seven other people. Since no one had any questions to ask her, Mrs. Spier began to walk towards her black, shiny car.

"Now Mary Anne, go after her!" Kristy encouraged me.

And so I ran. "Mother!" I yelled. "Mother! Mrs. Spier!"

She stopped and turned to face me. "What are you talking about, child?" she asked. "I'm not your mother."

"I know you are!" I cried. "Father, I mean Richard, told me everything!"

"You don't understand", she said peevishly. "I'm not your mother. I don't have any kids."

I stared at her for a moment and started to shed tears. "If you're not my mom, then who is?" I sobbed.

Mrs. Spier sighed. "Calm down", she demanded. "And I'll explain you everything."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The trailer was located by the forest. Its muddy pink paint had peeled off here and there uncovering the cold metal wall. There were remains of a campfire in front of one of its oval windows. A little further, where the stream was burbling, was a clothesline set between two trees. An old, flowery dress and some other drenched rags were hanging on it.

Two days earlier, in a peaceful café on Oak Street, Alma Spier had told me what had happened seven years ago. She was at the time better known as Tanya Brick, and was serving her sentence in women's prison in Washington D. C. She had committed several crimes; the worst of them was an armed robbery and the pettiest showing her breasts in public. ("Just the left one actually", she said. "But the judge didn't believe it.")

In prison she had met this ex-drug addict, Alma Spier, and they had talked a lot. Together they had decided to become socially acceptable once they would be free again. Tanya just had this one problem: she wanted to achieve a political career but she was too well known as a criminal. So this kind-hearted woman Alma had agreed to exchange identities.

After Tanya was released she had made as much alterations as possible to her appearance and started her new life as Alma Spier. Two years later the real Alma Spier had got out of jail and changed her name to Tanya Brick. At first they had kept in touch, but over the years it became more and more infrequent. The last time Alma had heard of Tanya was about three years ago. Then she had been living near the south border of Stoneybrook in a trailer with her fiancé.

There I now was with Logan, ready to finally meet my true, biological mother.

I knocked the trailer's door and squeezed Logan's hand. He put his arm around my shoulders. "Oh St.. Mary Anne", he whispered. "It'll be alright." Logan has started to stutter. Every time she calls me by the name he says "st" first. I should suggest him a visit to the logopedist.

There were heavy footsteps and creaking when the door opened. I was face to face with this puffy, sloppy woman. Her brown hair was greasy and tangled, her eyes were bleary and reddish, her clothes were full of encrusted dirt and she smelled like sweat and alcohol.

I couldn't hide my feelings any longer. "Mom!" I exclaimed and threw my arms around her neck.

"Yeah", she said when I had finally let go of her. "You must be my daughter Mary Jane. Alma, urrh, Tanya, well that woman told me you were coming."

"No, mom, my name is Mary Anne", I corrected her.

"Oh yeah, sorry", she replied. "The lack of Subutex sometimes makes me forget things. Come in if you wanna."

Inside the trailer was musty and full up with more or less broken furniture. Logan and I sat down side by side on an unmade bed. The room was divided in half with a veil, and I heard loud snoring from the other side.

"Ignore that", my mother requested. "It's just my husband Kenny. It took him ages to find Daniel and Susan last night. They had fled to the forest again."

"Are Daniel and Susan cats or dogs?" Logan asked.

"Neither", my mother told him. "Susan is our 4-year-old daughter and Daniel is her capuchin monkey."

"So I have a half sister!" I said enthusiastically. "That's great!"

"I wouldn't be so delighted about it", my mother growled. "Poor kid. Even Daniel's IQ is higher than hers." She uncorked a bottle of whiskey. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked reaching us the bottle. "I have some red wine too."

"We are under aged", I reminded her. "Don't you have anything non-alcoholic?"

"Well, there's beer in the fridge."

"Never mind", Logan said quickly. "We're not thirsty."

We chatted an hour or so. I told my mother everything about the BSC, Stoneybrook Middle School and my father and Sharon. She in turn told me what it was like to live with such a lazy man as Kenny was and how she sometimes wanted to stab him to death.

When Logan and I left I promised to visit her again soon. It was a huge lie. But next week she would surely get guests; that is to say from social services department and from society for the protection of animals. It was my duty as a member of the BSC.

"Can you believe that?" I asked Logan when we were walking towards the bus station.

"I know", he replied. "A monkey as a pet! Is that cool or what?"

I sighed. Boys can be so childish sometimes, even Logan.

We walked a moment in silence. "You know, there are a couple of things that don't make sense", he said then. "Firstly, why did Tanya Brick come to Stoneybrook to run for a mayor when here live the people who could recognize that she isn't Alma Spier? They look nothing alike."

"I don't know", I responded. "Maybe she thought it would be easy for her to win when people think she's from here. I guess it's so important to her that she is willing to take the risk."

"Yeah, you're probably right", Logan said thoughtfully. "But then there's this other question that I can't stop thinking about."

"Really? What is it?"

"What the _hell_ did your father see in _that woman_ which made him marry her?"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Final words

It was a lovely afternoon; the sun was shining and there were no clouds in the sky. Kristy, Stacey, Claudia and I were hanging out in Stacey's front yard. Mallory and Jessi were also there, but they were just fetching us soda pop from inside.

I was browsing through a youth magazine and smiling to myself. It had been such an exciting week; to find out that your mother is alive is something that can't be described, although she wasn't exactly that kind of a person I had hoped she would be. I couldn't ever love her, or even want to see her ever again, but I wished her well. Father, Sharon and Dawn were my real family.

My own future would never be anything like my mother's current life. I had it all planned out: Logan and I would get married and have at least six children. We might move to New York or London for a few years, but eventually we would return to Stoneybrook, which is the best place in the world.

What about the other members of the BSC then? Well, they were quite an extraordinary group of people. They all had a special talent! Kristy would become, if not the commander-in-chief, a successful businesswoman. Dawn, who is an activist already at the age of 13, would some day be a politician or something like that. Claudia would become an artist, Mallory a novelist, Jessi a ballerina and Stacey.. well, with her style it shouldn't be hard to find a rich husband.

I beamed. Life was so great.

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Joan Wilson was sipping rum and boiling potatoes outside her trailer. Kenny, a middle aged, bald and rather large man sat next to her smoking the fifth cigarette in a row. Joan snatched the butt from him. "It's my turn now", she said.

"So how are we gonna spend the money that crazy woman gave us?" Kenny asked and burped.

"Gave _me, _Kenny", Joan emphasized. "It was _me _who had to learn that stupid story and pretend to be that girl's relative. You did nothing but slept the whole time."

"It was the best thing to do", Kenny replied. "I wouldn't have remembered how to call you. Tanya, Alma or what the damn. I don't think you even knew yourself who you were supposed to be."

"All the same. Easy money is always a good thing" Joan said. "I just feel sorry for the girl. Her mother is a lying bitch."

"Oh you feel sorry for her cause of that!" Kenny laughed. "I personally pity her because now she thinks that _you're_ her mom."

Joan nudged Kenny so that some rum spilled on his shirt.

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_Author's Note:_

_A big thanks to those people who have R&R this story when it was still unfinished._

_If you have taken the time to read this, please review it too._

_hazel-the-nut_


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